Rather You Than Me
by TypewritingFangirl
Summary: "How long had he been on the phone? No more than half an hour, surely... One selfish half hour talking to Feliks. But half an hour had been all it took." Russia is in the mood for a game, and now everybody has to pay for their flaws. IDEAS BASED ON THE FILM 'WOULD YOU RATHER' Some LietPol/ other ships :) T for torture and safety. Please check it out!
1. Chapter 1

**Rather You Than Me  
**

**HELLO FOLKS! Yes, I'm actually writing again - under a new username, if you're wondering who I am! I've written a ton of one-shots, actually, but I wasn't very happy with them, then I was hella busy, then I binge watched several TV shows even when I did have spare time and… yeah, chaos. However, it seems I'm best at writing when I'm under extreme pressure to study. Which is great for stories, but unfortunately not so good for my test results.**

**This opening is not the most original of a Baltic story ever, but it'll get better (hopefully!) If I do update, it'll be on Sunday afternoons or Wednesday evenings! If you review, you can have a Malteser… (Just one, greedy!) **

**WARNINGS: Story will contain torture scenes and general Baltic unhappiness. Sorry.  
(I'm not sorry :).)  
Also some cursing (but not much)**

Lithuania was walking the corridors of Russia's mansion, almost whistling. For some strange reason, he felt indescribably... happy.

No. That was a lie. He was happy because he'd just got off the phone to his Feliks, and Poland was in the sweetest of moods. So often flimsy and selfish, the ponytailed nation had actually complimented Toris, had actually asked how he was, had even spoken in Lithuanian down the line:  
"_Aš tave myliu_. Forever and always."  
And he'd responded likewise. "_Bardzo cię kocham._ Until the end of the world."

So there was a little spring in his step as he entered the kitchen and began to set out ingredients for the dinner. In fact, he was so engrossed, he did not even notice the country who was sitting silently at the table until he spoke.

"Privet, Toris!"

"M-Mr R-R-Russia!" Lithuania dropped the carton of milk he was holding, and gasped when it burst, his good mood evaporating quickly as he watched the liquid seep across the floor. "I mean, you m-made me j-j-jump. I mean, I'm sorry, sir, I'll clean up this mess right aw..."

Before he could start blabbering, Russia placed a hand on his head and a thumb under his chin, holding his mouth firmly closed - a tactic he usually used with Raivis.

Toris realised with horror that he hadn't checked Ivan's eyes today. He did so, and instantly paled.

They had a tell-tale glint.

The glint that said: "Stay far, far, far away. Run as fast as you can, and hide."

But it was too late for running.

"Why so worried, Toris? How do they say it... Oh! There are no uses in crying over the spilt milk, da?" Russia smiled, but it was chilling, dangerous; it sliced Lithuania's flesh like barbed wire.

And then he realised what else was wrong.

_Šūdas! __Where's Latvia? Where's Estonia? I've not heard a peep out of them for ages..._

"They're fine." Russia reassured, reading his mind. He smoothed down the silky brown hair, and Toris fought the urge to try and duck away. It would only get him hurt if he did so, but he hated being _stroked_. As if he were a _child_, or an _animal_. Something to be owned, something to be petted, not a soldier and a nation who'd sacrificed countless _everythings_...

It made a vein in his forehead pulse.

"Well, when I say fine..." Russia continued thoughtfully, and Lithuania tried to force his jaw apart, starting to struggle, terrified thoughts tumultuous.

_DIEVES, DIEVES, DIEVES! WHERE ARE THEY? WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE TO MY BROTHERS! _

"Don't panic! They are alive, they are barely hurt, they won't BE hurt unless you KEEP STRUGGLING, da?!"

Lithuania stood, stock-still.

The boys were 'barely hurt'.

Barely... hurt.

Barely...

How long had he been on the phone? No more than half an hour, surely, hiding in Raivis's favourite airing cupboard spot. One selfish half hour talking to Feliks.

But half an hour had been all it took.

He could feel his knees go weak. Russia let go of his face and placed a hand on each shoulder, steering him towards the door.

"That is better. I was not in the mood for carrying another one. Now, you will come with me."

What else could Toris do?

**_Aš tave myliu - _Lithuanian, I love you (or at least it is according to Google Translate, so please correct me if I'm wrong!)  
****_Bardzo cię kocham_ \- Polish, I love you lots  
****~_Šūdas! -_ Lithuanian, shit!  
****~_Dieves_ -Lithuanian, God**

**Openings are fun! It's just getting any further than that I struggle with.  
ABBC might be updated if I ever get a decent chapter. It just sort of went off at a tangent, and the beginning makes me cringe…  
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this little bit. I'm sorry for my LietPol bias! This story is probably in the same universe as ABBC - everyone is the same except Russia. Or maybe he's just two people? Perhaps this is his 2p counterpart? I don't know, I'm only the writer.**

**B is out! :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**Rather You than Me – Part 2**

**Hello! It's been some week, but I'm coming through on the other side! And I'm publishing on time, so that's a thing! Thanks guys for reviewing, and Hinotori-hime for the favourite! **** (Becomes less mean and shares Maltesers with everyone.) This chapter is mostly from Estonia's perspective, but it flicks around… Also featuring: overuse of the word 'something'!**

**I never did a disclaimer, did I? And I love disclaimers; they make me feel like I know what I'm doing…  
**_**I don't own Hetalia or Would You Rather. But I particularly don't own Hetalia. Not even a little bit. Honest. Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.**_

"I'm c-c-c-cold." Raivis complained for the three thousandth time, rubbing his hands together and blowing on them simultaneously.

"WE – DON'T – CARE!" Estonia replied yet again, trying to stop his own teeth from chattering. "Jump up and down or something, just stop bothering everybody!"

There were five of them: Estonia, Latvia, Prussia, Romania and Georgia (the last a glamorous, slim but often quick to scorn nation who looked decidedly annoyed at the situation she was in.) Nobody knew why they were down in one of the unheated bomb shelters – the latter three weren't even sure of how and when they'd got there. Estonia had been last to arrive, Russia grabbing him from behind as he finished off some paperwork and hauling him by the upper arms through the house (despite his protests.) Apart from each other, there was nothing there but the long table they sat at, a smattering of uncomfortable chairs and a huge Soviet flag covering a wall. And Estonia wasn't ruling out the possibility of hidden cameras, either: he was no fool.

"This is lame," Georgia grumbled, picking at her nails. "You're all lame."

"Um, _ENTSCHULDIGEN_?! YOU might be lame. I'm frickin' AWESOME!"

"Gilbert, go and dissolve already."

"Make me, Tamara. Just make me."

"Red-eyed freak of nature."

"Easy chick of Eastern Europe."

"Hah, coming from you, you… you… creepy-ass! And anyway, I'm half-Asian! Don't you dare lump me in with you insane Europeans!"  
She wished she could come up with a better insult, but Prussia always made her too mad to think clearly.

"Creepy-ass?"

"We all know what you, Francis and Antonio get up to in the dark."

"Objection!" Prussia went peony at the accusation. "That's… that's _scheissdreck_! Vhere's… vhere the hell is your evidence?!"

"Your face is evidence enough; if only Hungary were here to photograph that…"

Romania tuned out their squabbling, his stiff body language speaking of an unusually intense anger that didn't fit well with his personality. The others weren't in bonds, but he was blindfolded and tied to the chair. Russia clearly didn't want him escaping via magical means.

"Vlad, should we try again at the blindfold?" Estonia offered, sensing the other man's frustration.

"It won't come off. He will have made sure of it. And it'll only be trouble for you if you do get it off, Eddy. But thanks anyway."  
_I want to see I want to see I want to SEE!_

Because of his reliance on sight for magic, and because of events in his past, he couldn't think of anything worse than being blinded. Stuck in the dark, which contrary to popular belief, he did not like. Waiting for Bulgaria to notice his absence and hopefully rescue him: take him back to the Boarding House, away from the freezing Soviet mansion…

He sung Bulgaria's working song under his breath, and it had the usual effect of taking his mind off things. But there was no moment of musical unison: the pointless arguing and whining went on.

"I'm c-cold." Raivis stated for the three thousand and first time, repeating it like mantra as he jiggled up and down. "Cold, c-cold, cold, cold, c-cold! Cold, cold, cold, cold, cold! I am g-getting hypothermia; cold, cold, cold! My t-toes and feet w-will fall off one by one; cold, cold, cold! Eddy will be s-sorry when I fr-fr-freeze to death; cold, cold, cold!"

"SHUT THE HELL UP, RAIVIS!" yelled the majority of the nations present. He pouted for a while, but soon gave up on trying for sympathy, lying back in his chair and swinging on it. The front legs clacked on the concrete floor. Clack. Clack. Clack.

Estonia started to polish his glasses, a habit that calmed him almost as much as tea did. "Perhaps Mr R-R-Russia is trying to bore us to death? We've not been very long down here, and I'm already fed up."

"Ve could try and pass the time, perhaps? Hey, _Rumänien_, how about eye-spy?"

At first Romania swore profusely in his own language, but he soon began demonstrating his thoughts on Prussia's idea with a series of internationally understood gestures. Eddy covered Raivis's ears: Tamara his eyes. (Not that he hadn't seen and heard it all before.) They didn't like to see him angry – it made them apprehensive.

Prussia put his hands in the air in mock surrender, and as he did so, the door swung open and Lithuania was shoved into the room – he tripped with the sudden increase of velocity, and fell straight forward, smacking his face on the floor. There was an unpleasant _crunch_, but he forced himself straight back up again, glancing about in alarm.

A nation in a flowered shirt strolled in next, slamming the door behind them.

They heard the bolt slide shut.

"WHAT'S GOING ON?!" Vlad shouted, making the chair jump with the effort of trying to get up. _I need to see!_

"_Latvija_! _Estija_! Oh, thank heavens you're all right!" The brunet embraced the other two Baltics, and they immediately felt bad for arguing: Lithuania was too good. You always felt selfish in comparison with him.

"Hey, _dummkopf_, you've crushed your nose, if you haven't noticed!  
Lithuania felt his face, and winced.

"Ah, yes. Anyone got a handkerchief?"

Cuba produced one from his front pocket and waved it in front of Lithuania with all the fervour of a surrendering Italian, prompting Toris to finally look around the room and assess the situation.

"Privet… what are you all doing here?" He asked, taking the handkerchief and attempting to dab up his steadily swelling nose. "And Cuba? Wh-why…"

"Ve don't know." A droplet of anxiety had leaked into Prussia's usually derisive tone as he interrupted. "Ve have no frickin' idea."

"Cuba's in here? WHAT?" Romania struggled a little harder.

"Usually…" Latvia gulped a little, tugging at his fringe and starting again. "U-usually it's j-j-just us for these k-kinds of th-things…"

"Usually?" squealed Georgia, despite herself. "You mean, this is a USUAL occurrence?! Being locked in a creepy basement?"

The Baltics shrugged. "Eh."

"_Scheisse!_"

Suddenly, they were all talking at once, confused comrades creating crackpot conspiracies of what was to happen to them, each more panicked and unlikely than the last.

"STOP!"  
They obeyed Cuba; he was a natural leader, and didn't need to be sitting on the table to make his point. But he was anyway.  
"I have no time to explain. But… forgive me, _por favor._" He glanced towards the flag before they could notice his tears glisten. "I am doing what I have to do…"

There was a scraping of a bolt. A clearing of a throat.

"Privet!"

Russia walked into the room, dangerously purple. They averted their gazes, apart from Romania (obviously), who hissed as he felt the room drop even further in temperature; and Prussia, who couldn't help but snort and mutter at the dramatic entrance.

"What was that, Gilbert?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing what?"

They had completed this embarrassing exercise around a million times since Prussia lost the war, Russia applying varying degrees of pressure depending on his mood. But Gilbert wasn't about to call Ivan 'sir' just yet – he'd held out for years; he could hold out a bit more.

"Nothing, you asshat."  
_The day I call him 'Sir' is the day I am truly abolished as a nation…_

"Nothing, you asshat, what?" Russia began to walk towards the pale nation, flexing his knuckles.

_They go on for hours with this, _Latvia thought with a sigh, beginning to swing on his chair again. _I miss Peter. He'd make me laugh if he were here.  
I used to laugh more._

Russia stopped mid-stride, as if he'd forgotten what he was doing, and wheeled back round to go sit at the head of the table. Prussia could barely disguise his relief.

"I suppose you are wondering why you are gathered here, da?"

Nobody said anything, until Lithuania cleared his throat. "Da, sir. It's very cold down here, and I should be cooking dinner. Do y-you want me to go back up and-"

"**NO! NO-ONE LEAVES YET**"

Raivis toppled his chair over with a squeak of shock.  
"Latvia-a!" Lithuania and Estonia cried in unison, the latter rolling his eyes up to heaven.

"I'm o-o-okay!" came the response from the floor. "Ish."

Russia waited for him to get back up and sit down before continuing.

"I gathered you here because I would like to play a game."

There was something intrinsically sinister in that word that almost all of them picked up. All of them but the worst mood reader in international history, that is.

"Ooh! What is it? Is it fun?" Latvia perked back up again (he'd been rubbing his head reproachfully).

Estonia fought to control his urge to facepalm. _Oh Raivis, you innocent little idioot…_ He was trying to think, trying to read what was going on in the purposefully blank face of Juan, who had gone to stand behind Ivan, arms folded. Every now and then, he would twitch horribly, as if emotion was dying to burst out and tell Eddy everything.

"You could say that," Russia said evenly. "But let me explain. It's a game of Would You Rather; I ask you a question, and you have to pick one or the other – but you have to go through with whatever you choose. For example, Eduard-"

Estonia jumped, and realised he hadn't been listening, too fixated on Cuba. He braced himself for whatever punishment would surely ensue. "D-da?"

"Would you rather… strike me, or strike Raivis?"  
The boy felt trapped under the big man's gaze, and he bit his lip. Then, he picked the cowardly choice.

"R-Raivis. Sorry, Lat." He glanced over, but then felt confused as Latvia's eyes swelled with betrayal.

_I didn't realise Lat would be so hurt by that… Is he trying to divide us? But it will take more than a stupid game of Would You Rather to do that – Latvia will usually forgive any words for hugs or cake. What is this, a joke?_

Russia chuckled a little. "It didn't take you long to decide, did it?"  
Estonia kept his resolve, and shrugged. Hitting Russia would have been suicide.

"Remember, now; you have to go through with it. So, in this case, you have to hit him."

_What?! No… Did he just throw that in there, or was it when I was distracted?_ "No! I- I won't! I won't!"

"Oh, Eduard, how many times have I told you to listen carefully to the instructions?" Russia clucked his tongue, in a manner which was strangely terrifying. He'd clearly known Estonia had missed the verbal small print. "If you back out of it now, you have to forfeit."

Georgia cut in rather brazenly, "What's the forfeit?"

"They don't want to know, do they, Juan?"

Cuba shook his head, and his mask wavered again. They saw pain twist his features, until he snapped them back to 'impassive bodyguard' mode.

Estonia faced a dilemma. He felt the water in his mouth go dry, his tongue curl and shrivel like newspaper on a bonfire. Cuba's expression at the word 'forfeit', the way he was acting so _obedient_…

Something had happened to him. Something bad.

_Raivis has been hit before, as much as we tried to stop it... I… I don't have to do it hard. I'll make it up to him. I'll buy him as much chocolate and alcohol as Moscow city centre holds…_

Latvia vacated his chair, and backed away as Estonia approached. "I'm sorry, R-Raivis; it won't hurt much, I sw-swear…"

His hardly comforting reassurances did nothing: Raivis's breathing was so heavy it tore into Eduard, each ragged gasp a knife stroke. "Don't hit me! Please, Eddy, please don't hit me!"

Estonia would still hear those pleads in years to come, waking him up in a cold sweat as he walked his prey into a corner. And open-palm smacked him across the face.  
It was hard, too, not a light slap as he'd intended. It was purposeful; he'd put all his weight into it. It was…  
Raivis's whining had been getting under his skin, and he didn't plan to, but…  
Nothing could excuse it. He knew.  
But for a second, before the overwhelming, excruciating shame, he felt a tremor of satisfaction.

Jumal küll… _I am as bad as Russia.  
Worse, because I am not a psychopath.  
I knew exactly what I was doing, and I…  
I...  
I felt good._

There was a sharp click as the young boy's head snapped back with the force of the blow. Lithuania couldn't sit still any longer: he leapt up and crossed the room in an instant, pushing Estonia aside with so much _disappointment_ that the bespectacled nation ached with guilt.

He couldn't look at their appalled faces. He couldn't look at his frightened, heavy-breathing brothers.  
Frightened of him.

He sat back down in his chair.

"That was… harsh." God, even Russia sounded a little taken aback. "Anyway, those are the conditions of the game. Now, if you want to leave, you can. Go. Walk out of the door right now, and I will not stop you. I swear, I will not."

"Why am I tied up then?" Romania asked stiffly.

"I'm sure you agree it is necessary precaution, da? You will be untied either way when you make your choice."

For several more moments as they mulled it over, silence. Then: "You can't be serious," Prussia laughed nervously. "He can't be, guys, right? Thinking ve'd vant to play this crazy 'game'? Vacky sense of humour, I-Ivan: hilarious. Come on, everybody."

The silver haired nation got up first to leave. To everyone's surprise (including his) Russia kept his promise and didn't go to stop him.

"One more thing," he continued, carefully calm. "The nation who wins this game... gets their independence."

Prussia stopped, stock-still. Stunned into silence.

_So, that's what his game is._ Estonia thought grimly amidst his shame.  
_How far will we go for freedom? How far are we under his control? I mean, look what I did with barely any incentive._

_What will we do to each other to leave this place?  
Now that I've proved myself heartless… what will they do to me?_

**Ooh, plot!  
This chapter is confusing because there simply are too many characters! (They will lessen as I progress… eh, not just in a sinister way!) I'm using Georgia/Tamara as introduced in ABBC, who is my OC of that country, but she will only be in this chapter and the next, I think? It's really on the border between Asia and Europe, but I think most Georgians consider themselves European? I'm not sure, so she's half and half! If you're Georgian and want to yell at me for getting your country completely wrong, I wouldn't even mind. I need to have more international knowledge…  
Also, I had to change the category to 'Hurt/Comfort' because there is no way I can write horror: I felt bad enough just smacking Latvia!**

**-Vlad ~ My name for Romania  
-Juan ~ My name for Cuba (whose random appearance behind Liet will be explained soon)  
**_**-Scheissdreck**_** ~ German, bullshit. I found this website full of insults and swears in many different languages. It's been frickin' AWESOME!  
**_**-ENTSCHULDIGEN**_** ~ German, EXCUSE ME!  
**_**-Dummkopf **_**~ German, idiot  
-**_**Por favor **_**~ Spanish, please  
-** _**Jumal küll**_** ~ Estonian, oh my God  
**

**I think my other translations are fairly obvious, right? **** I apologise for frequently forgetting Romania: I need him later on, but being blindfolded and tied up means I can't really do anything with him right now…**

**I'm editing/ publishing this when I'm just back from my paper round, clutching a cup of tea as if it were lifeblood. So… cold…**

**Please review if you were even somewhat entertained, and win a cuddly toy!  
(Subject to Terms&amp;Conditions. Cuddly toy may bite. DO NOT RETURN THE CURSED THING. I don't want it back.)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Rather You Than Me – Part 3**

**It's Sunday, it's after my paper round, and that means… RATHER YOU THAN ME! And speaking of my paper round, I got absolutely drenched. Damn you Iggy and your detestable plethora of rain! If Russia has General Winter, I think we have General Spring Showers! All for a measly £6…**

**Thank you for your very brilliant reviews – I love them I love them I love them! *Hands out cursed soft toys as promised* *Has been listening too avidly to 'Welcome To Night Vale' for my own good*  
I am trying to stop this simply being an account of people getting on and off chairs… trying, and failing.**

**An ounce more cursing in this chapter. I apologise. Prussia is a loose cannon.**

**Oh, and 'Ta!' and cakes to Veritasy and ladybugbird for following!  
**

* * *

Prussia stopped. Stock-still. Stunned into silence.

"You have fifteen minutes to decide. Stay or go? Go or stay? It is all about dilemma." Russia sat back, to observe.

The corners of Gilbert's mouth began to tremble, as if he were trying to string a sentence together. "VHAT?" He exclaimed eventually, trying to stop his voice going shrill. "Is this some kind of s-sick joke?"

He pictured the tearing down of a wall, his family waiting for him on the other side. Ludwig, grinning, a tear trickling down one usually stoic cheek. Roderich, pretending not to care but squeezing his hand too tight when they shake. _Mein Gott, even seeing Italien would be nice!_  
He imagined feeling strong again, jogging across the countryside with the dogs for miles without getting breathless. His friends: Francis and Antonio, probably organising some insane 'Welcome Home' party...

"Not a joke. Freedom. You just have to win the game."

Moments passed.

Prussia sat back down.

"Good boy. Thirteen minutes, everyone."

Latvia, who had returned to his seat, felt as if he were going to cry, and he allowed Lithuania to place a cooling palm on his burning cheek. "I don't w-want fr-fr-freedom if it's g-g-gonna h-h-hurt..."

"Think about it! Don't you see what a chance this is?" Romania's blindfolded head was drooping, but he still managed to sound excited. "You'll get to leave! Stay with Finland and Sweden any time you like! Hang about with the micronations… Live wherever you want, have your flag back, have your SONGS back... And I… I would meet Moldova…"

Both Eduard and Raivis looked up at the word 'songs'. They both missed their traditional music desperately, and the promise of its return struck a chord.

"You have twelve minutes to de-cide!"

They sat with Estonia, Lithuania and Latvia down one side of the table, and Prussia, Georgia and Romania directly opposite them. Russia was at the head, drumming his fingers. Cuba still loitered behind, an obedient dreadlocked puppy.

"There is nothing right with this," Georgia said slowly, getting to her feet. "And I can't believe none of you can see it. Estonia, especially; I expected more from you."

Estonia privately agreed with her, but also thought she wasn't being very empathetic. The eastern nations barely spent any time in Ivan's presence, but he was stuck every day in this freezing house, with its even colder basements, silent but for screams – and he didn't know how much more of it he could take.  
"I want freedom for my country." He stated, matter-of-factly and lying through his teeth. "No matter the personal cost. Don't you?"

"Of course I do! I've had ten times the revolutions you've had! And I will keep fighting until I get it. But I don't trust Mr Russia not to twist the rules!"

_You're smarter than you look._ Estonia glanced at her from a new angle. He'd dismissed her as stupid, obsessed with nothing but her appearance, but there was perhaps a little more to her than that. She was a self-preserver, at least. And she had considered an obvious possibility that he hadn't.

Prussia clearly didn't agree. "Are you frickin' nuts, Tamara?!" he gestured to Russia, who thankfully didn't seem to be listening (not that you ever knew.) "Saying that in front of him?"

"Wh-what're you g-going to do, L-Liet?" Latvia asked what was probably the most important question, and as a body they turned to Lithuania.

"I- I- Baltics stay together." He gave a small, comforting smile. "Whatever you want to do. Where you go, I go."  
_So I can protect you, Raivis. So I can help you win. As Estonia doesn't seem to be up to it!  
No, that's harsh. I forget he is only a child too, though precocious…  
He's so afraid. And if he's afraid, there's usually good reason._

"Well, I'm leaving. If you're sane, you'll come with me." Georgia, feigning confidence, strode past Russia and Cuba, her ruby heels clicking on the concrete like Dorothy wishing her way home.

She waited by the door.

"It is unlocked. Just go, if you are going."

Georgia felt uneasy that for all this, she wasn't facing any forfeit, but she wasn't about to complain. She turned and nodded to each of them in turn, swinging her long, dark plait like a pendulum.

"It'll be… interesting, to see who wins. Good luck, I suppose."

She opened the heavy door with an ease that outstripped her delicate human form, and stepped into a dimly-lit hallway. Running her hand along the dank wall to avoid bumping into anything, she walked towards the glimpse of daylight ahead. Soon she'd be back at their house, back in relative safety, and she would take the longest bath…

There was an intake of breath.  
There was a small _clunk_.  
She knew right then that she was not going to be going home today, and she would not be having a bath: she knew right then that she was dead, because it was the sound of a safety catch.

Georgia was no fool either.

_You were stupid to think there'd be no consequences, Tamara. You were the stupid one._

Then she stopped thinking altogether.

* * *

Latvia couldn't help it: he didn't want to be a baby; he didn't want everyone to pity him or help him or put themselves in the firing line for him.

But he screamed when the gun went off.

"V-VHAT THE FUCKING HELL!" Prussia yelled, kicking his chair aside and rushing for the open door.

"GILBERT, STOP!" Lithuania, who had also jumped up, grabbed him before he could leave, somehow holding the flailing and stronger nation tightly. "Who do you think you are, America? Think for a minute! You'll be no good to her if you get shot too."

Prussia fought for a few seconds more, before the reason broke through to him and he stepped back, trembling with rage and a violent desire for vigilante justice.

"You had her shot. Vhy? You didn't… you didn't need to do that!"  
_I nearly left! Hell, I nearly left!_

"I do not want everybody knowing you are here. Eight minutes."

Still blinded, Romania was shaking almost as much as Latvia usually did, and the said young nation had to reach across and touch his elbow to calm him down. "It's okay," he whispered, and did not know who he was reassuring. "My p-panic attacks are l-l-like that t-too."

"M-Mr R-Russia?"

"Toris?"

He had been staring at Georgia's vacated seat with something close to resignation in his deep green eyes.

"M-May I go and l-look after her? T-take her up to one of the Guest rooms? So she'll be comfortable when she wakes up…"

"Fine." Russia didn't even bother looking at him. He clearly trusted the oldest Baltic implicitly. "There are people out there to do it, but if you really want to help – well, you are the nation for helping, da? As long as you're back in… seven minutes."

"Th-thank you." Lithuania headed for the door immediately.

"Oh, and Toris? Eduard and Raivis will be very sad if you're late. Very, very sad indeed."

The brunet nodded at the implicit threat, and with a swallow left for the corridor.

_This is bad. This is bad. I have never seen him like this before…  
This is so bad._

He walked a little way down, blinking at the sudden change from stark white lighting to soft yellow, and had to fight back a sob when he accidentally trod on Tamara's arm. They'd shared history and treaties over the years – she was one of Poland's best friends, and he could recall drinking a mug of coffee at a Georgian market, watching the two of them try on endless outfits and hold up materials, the girl encouraging Feliks to put on ornamented _arkhaligs _and huge hats and silken gloves and ribbons the colour of the sky. He remembered smiling like an exhausted parent as they darted about like children in the eighteenth century streets, daring each other to dodge carts and horses, him trailing behind and lugging all their purchases onto their coach. He remembered sharing armies, close allies always, even if Toris found her remotely dislikeable: he had come to accept that Poland was dislikeable to most others too.

Now, in faded red dungarees and contrasting shirt – with a gruesome hole in the back of her head – she was barely recognisable.

Lithuania lifted her up in his arms, and turned her over. And _ačiū Dievui, _it went through: he didn't have to try and dislodge the bullet. But seeing the hole between her eyes…  
_It was fast. Oh, Tamara, at least it was fast…_  
He hoped she hadn't even realised, but that was unlikely.

Running through the corridors, up the several flights of stairs he'd been pushed down not half an hour before, ignoring the blood he was dripping over himself and the floors (which weren't carpeted, for good reason), he burst into the first guest bedroom he could. He placed her onto the bed and found towels from the airing cupboard to put under her head.

The airing cupboard gave him a pang of regret. This had been how it started, Poland's sugar talk in his ear, the illusion of infinite moments hidden away. _Half a selfish hour, so damn me!_

He took out Latvia's extra blankets and tucked them gently around her, then filling a glass of water, left it and a handful of his own painkillers and sleeping pills on the bedside table. She was not going to have a fun wake up in a day or two.

"That's all I have time to do. I'm sorry. I have to go back to the boys – but… sleep well, _kochanie_. Sleep well."

He used Poland's words, because his own fell flat on his tongue.  
_It's been so long since I've been able to use my language… I'm forgetting it._

_This is why Lat needs to be free._

_Before he forgets who he is._

_Before he stops caring about his own life any more._

_Before he turns into me._

* * *

Back in the corridor, an assassin bawled.

"Pull yourself together!" Her companion hissed, shaking her by the shoulder. "We never liked her anyway. It's not like she's going to stay dead forever. Will you stop crying?"

"You're heartless, sister. I… I… I CAN'T DO THIS!"

"Will you keep your mouth closed? Don't you want to keep the family together?"

Ukraine bit her lip. She looked unsure. "Well, da, but…"

"Well, da!" Belarus nodded her head dismissively, as if to say _well, that's that!_

But Ukraine felt sick. Giddy. She wasn't sure of anything anymore. Thoughts whirled chaotic in her mind, a merry-go-round of anxious doubts, and she had to fight to keep them under control.

_Why is Ivan doing this? I don't understand why we have to do this…  
It tears my heart when I hurt people.  
Doesn't it tear his?_

Hearing the approach of footsteps, the two ducked back into the alcove they were using and waited for Liet to burst back through the door.

"He looks like an idiot when he runs." Belarus smirked a little, but she didn't have enough of her usual cattiness to stay mean. "But he is cute."

"That's all you can think about?" Ukraine squeaked, looking through wide eyes.

"It's all I'm going to let myself think about." Natalya replied grimly, and closed her eyelids for a second too long, pressing painful pictures like dead flowers: long gone memories to be preserved and saved for the middle of the night, when the guilt attacks her.

Guilt is a midnight foe, Belarus decided.

"Ten, nine, eight, seven – oh, hello Toris!"

Estonia felt his shoulders slump with relief, and he gave Lithuania a half-hearted wave. "Glad you could join us."

"We're ready to start!" Ivan smiled; it was a curl of the lips so similar to his innocent grin, but Liet could always tell the difference where Latvia could not.

The little boy smiled back, as if he hadn't already gathered that this game was not going to be a fun one. Or perhaps he had: perhaps he knew exactly what was going on and reverted into pretending to be dim in the hope that everyone would go easy on him. You could never quite tell, Estonia reflected: Raivis was fifteen after all, and he seemed to have something going on in that head of his (it certainly wasn't common sense). But questioning innocent _Latvia's _motives was pointless – Russia was the one he should be puzzling out.

Cuba went to Romania and cut his ropes with a switchblade, very careful not to hurt him. He untied the blindfold with deft fingers. Then he went back to Ivan, staring at the ground as if he wanted to escape down to Hell – or at the very least, Australia's place.

Romania blinked repetitively, his red eyes going in and out of focus at the sudden change in light. He drank in each person, and thought about how different they were when he'd seen them in his head. They all appeared older already – harried. Latvia's red cheek suggested that Eddy had hit him harder than it had sounded, and of course, Tamara was gone but he wasn't going to think about that; and Lithuania looked like he was in need of strong liquor; and Prussia had reverted to his most obnoxious self and was kicking the table; and Russia looked – oh God he didn't even want to look at Russia.

"So, Round One," he was saying, smiling somehow wider than he had before. "It is quite the shock, da, Juan?"

"Yeah, _si_, da, I guess." It was barely more than a whisper.

_What the hell happened to you?_

"It is… electric shocks! Eduard, do you see what I did there?"

Estonia, this time, had made sure to be paying attention. "Nice pun, Mr R-Russia. How original."  
It was a good thing Latvia wasn't the only one immune to his sarcasm.

"I am knowing: I came up with it!"

On cue, the door swung open and two people, swathed head to toe in black – balaclavas and all – pushed a trolley through. It was clear from the size of one of their chests that it was Ukraine, and therefore probably Belarus too, but they refrained from pointing this out. Partly because they had clearly gone to some effort, and partly because they liked their heads on their shoulders, thank you very much.

_Does it make any difference? I'm still going to die today._ Estonia began to polish his glasses.  
_I have a feeling._

* * *

**I always write Eddy as a depressing, sarcastic arsehole… or me! :D And here he is again, taking over the end of the chapter with his drama queen ways! I apologise on his behalf.**

**I'm not sure if Part Four will be up next Sunday, as I have busy weeks ahead… SCIENCE EXAMS *screams in abject horror*…  
And yes, I've only just worked out how to put the dividing lines in. Yes, I feel stupid. No, I don't want to talk about it.**

_**arkhalig**_** – Georgian traditional costume.  
~** _**ačiū Dievui **_**– Lithuanian, thank God**

**Thank you for showing my fic some interest! Review for points, because points mean PRIZES!  
*Salutes you sharply, and marches into the sunset.* B is OUT!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Rather You Than Me – Part 4**

**If I'm publishing this, it must be a Sunday again… time, trickling by…  
You can thank my procrastination skills and my totally impossible Quadratic Formula homework for me being here. Quadratics are the worst… ;(**

**Reviews were so nice! *hugs you all.*It's been… it's been a not-so-easy few weeks, I can tell you, so thank you so much for sticking with this and putting up with me. It means a lot, honestly.**

**Thank you also to KaijinKyn, autumnkitten25, jebivjetar, Chengwangofmacau and Padfoot the epic GLOWSTICK – you, my friend, made my day with the BEST. USERNAME. EVER! – for following/favouriting! (And anybody I missed ****)**

**This first bit because I NEED LITHUANIA IN A COWBOY HAT! (If anyone can draw that I will virtually kiss you. In, like, a non-creepy way. Okay, officially shutting up.)**

_America, August 1926._

_The brunet boy is wandering through fields, and the scent of Summer hangs in the air as he walks, just brushing his hands among the golden wheat, cowboy-hat askew. He hadn't wanted to wear it, particularly, but Alfred had jammed it on to his head when he wasn't prepared – and anyway, Poland has forced him to put on worse things over the years._

"_Hey, Lithuania, my main dude! You coming?"_

_Strong hands help him up into the pick-up truck, and they're bouncing down the roads again, gazing at the vast expanse of a sky and the cushiony clouds which hang lazily above their heads. America is wittering on about his new dances and how he doesn't really like prohibition and not to tell his boss about the whiskey they're sharing, but Lithuania isn't really listening._

_He has never been so relaxed. What with the war over at last; pretty much having his independence; spending time away from home - and all the worrisome heartache the nations he loves cause him...  
He's reluctant to admit how blissful it is._

_The land of the free…_

* * *

Shaking his head out of his reverie, Lithuania let the memory slip from the forefront of his mind. This was not the time for melancholic daydreaming. Prussia sat staring directly at him, metal headband digging into his forehead, electrodes chaining him to a frightening machine that Toris did not want to look directly at. Russia stood beside it, playing with the buttons and lights and spitting dials like a mesmerised child.  
_He's like a toddler with a machine gun…_

Trying to blink back that imagery, he braced himself for what was to come.

"Now, Toris, you get to choose," Ivan was chatting away. "You are having thirty seconds to decide. Red button, you take the shock. Blue button, Gilbert takes the shock. Neither, you say? You face the forfeit. Ready?"

Could he ever be ready?  
"_Da._ Ready."

Cuba set a small clock on the table, and started the timer. _Tick. Tick. Tick._

"Look, _Litauen_, I know you don't like me. It's okay; I don't expect you to-"

Lithuania hit the red button with barely a hesitation, as they all assumed he would (though Prussia felt a little sick with himself for knowing.)

It was still horrible to see him spasm in his chair, stuttered screaming spilling from his lips.

_Wh-why does he always sacrifice himself?_ Latvia thought, feeling himself start to cry quietly and wishing he'd closed his eyes sooner. _Doesn't he know what it's like to see him hurt?  
It's the worst thing ever._

When it was over, when he felt the headband lift from his skull again, he took a moment to make sure he could still breathe. His hands were shaking violently, and blood was running from the corner of his mouth, but he still saved a small smile and wink for Raivis.  
"Wh-wh-whoever is next, put the handkerchief in your mouth. I bit my t-tongue."

As one of the people in black (presumably Belarus) approached Romania with a headband, he flinched away, looking as if he was going to fight. The thought of someone restraining him again somehow… "NO! Get away from me! Get away!"

Cuba advanced to grab him firmly by the shoulders, and say, in broken tones: "Stop."

And Vladimir did, insane ideas of resistance draining from him in a breath or two.

"Okay, you and Estonia! Your turn to choose, Romania. Thirty seconds!"

They gazed at each other, for several long seconds.

"I- I can take it, Vlad. I can, um, take one for the team..."

"I can't hurt you, Eduard," Romania said in his lilting fashion. "You're just a kid. I… I would never be able to forgive myself."

"I'm not a kid…" Estonia wished he sounded less unsure.

"Fifteen seconds."

"Toris, hand me the handkerchief."

He shoved the cloth between his teeth and pressed the red button.  
Raivis cried harder. He liked Romania.

Romania was always nice to him.

* * *

Next were Estonia and Prussia.

"Eduard, your dilemma. Would you rather the red button or the blue button?"

The clock was wound up.

The timer began.

Eddy did not want to be injured. He was so afraid of pain. But he did have morals, and although he didn't like Gilbert much, shocking him wasn't hitting. It was more… more wrong, somehow.

_Is it? Really? Jumal küll, I've a twisted set of self-preserving ethics!  
Should I consider the forfeit? No... No. It's not that bad yet._

"Twenty seconds."

_I can't. I can't. I can't hurt myself, madness lies that way. Being possibly hurt by someone else if different - I don't think I can choose to do it to myself! I know what this sort of torture is; I can't, I can't..._

"I'm not going to beg you, or anything," Prussia said, glaring at him. "However, you're seeming kind of indecisive. Maybe, as you said, you should take one for the- AGHH!"

Estonia had pressed the blue button whilst the Prussian was preoccupied, hoping that would be the best way.

"HEY!" As soon as the shock ended, Prussia dove over the table in a shaky rage. "GOTT VERDAMNT! You absolute unawesome bastard, Estonia! You didn't even let me put the cloth in my mouth - I could have bitten my tongue off! Fricking _dummkopf_! Fricking dummy!"

He tried to control the tremors still running through his body, to no avail.

Again, Estonia felt – kind of good.  
_That proves it. I am completely twisted…_

* * *

Lithuania wondered if the voltage he received was higher that Vladimir's and Gilbert's: he knew his muscles were still contracted long after theirs, and his head pounded, a drum. He was very nearly used to the agony, but he could feel his face twitching and didn't know how much he could take until he faced serious side effects.  
_Broken bones. Brain damage. Death. And I can't die yet – they're not safe yet…_

But there was no way of proving Russia was messing up the dials – he seemed to be spinning them randomly anyway. And it's not like he could complain, that this situation was _unfair_, exactly…

And then came the combination he'd been dreading.

"Lithuania and Latvia! Raivis, your choice!"

Raivis's ears stood out almost comically (if anything was comical about this situation) either side of the metal headband, electrodes tucked around them to connect up to the machine. His hair sprung up in the middle like tufty grass.

He was wringing his hands.

"Press the blue button, Raivis."

"I-I-I- no. N-no."

Lithuania felt liquid panic course through his veins, and his military-commander voice came to the fore. "Press the blue button! That is an order!"

"Y-you c-can't t-t-tell me what to d-do!" Latvia was sobbing again, messily, snot dribbling down his face, and his thumb shook over the buttons.

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

"I won't tell you again: press. The. Blue. Button. NOW!"

Latvia ignored him, reaching for the cloth deposited on the table.  
Estonia grabbed it before he could get there.

"For Christ's sake, Lati! Do what Toris says. Don't you remember when you first arrived here? Didn't you promise?"

* * *

Latvia did. He'd been locked up in the dark for a few days, before his country was fully occupied and the Soviets had a firm hold – he'd already run away several times, and lost out in horrendous blizzards.  
He could remember Lithuania bringing him food and water and stories and songs and to simply hear the understanding voice of another nation after so long stuck with human fighters…

"_Wh-what's it like? L-living with Russia?"_

_Lithuania stops. Truly stops – it is like every muscle stiffens. Like he's never been asked that question before, and can't even begin to formulate an acceptable answer._

"_M-Mr Russia… we have to work very hard, but it can be fun. _Da, _he can be really fun, and ever so eccentric and crazy and you'll call him Ivan and race around the house or have snowball fights… But he can also be… difficult to live with."_

_Lithuania stops again. Restarts._

"_Look, please, will you promise me something, Latvija?"_

"_O-okay?" His wide, violet eyes glitter with confusion in the torchlight. He has decided that he absolutely detests the chill, and hopes it won't always be this cold in Russia's house._

"_Suppose you make a mistake. So you drop a glass or speak in your language or can't keep your mouth shut. Or mention one of his bosses or… well, if he's in a bad mood, you'll know by his eyes. Come find me, and then hide. And if you get caught, please; say it was Lithuania's fault."_

"_B-but why? Th-that's not fair on you…"_

"_Because I'm the fixer," he grinned, though it was slightly forced. "I keep this mansion running! I'll sort it all for you, all right? You don't have to get hurt any more. You of all people don't deserve to be punished.  
Promise me you'll always let me take your place. Swear it."_

_There, then, uncertain and scared and sad, he made his fateful choice. "I sw-swear."_

* * *

"I- I've been t-t-tortured before; after that day and in the p-past." He glanced towards Prussia, who stared down at the table – nobody had fond memories of the Nazi occupation, least of all the perpetrators. "Y-you know th-that."

"Shut up, _Lati_!"

"_Latvija_, I am warning you. You wouldn't break an oath, would you?"

It was a cruel move, with a dash of Estonia's cunning – it was almost like Eduard speaking rather than Toris.

_Tick. Tick. Tick.  
Ten. Nine. Eight…_

"E-Eddy, give me the cl-cloth." Raivis had his own attempt at being assertive. It didn't work very well.

"No." It seemed that Estonia and Lithuania, for once, were working completely in tandem. "Not happening."

"D-D-DON'T YOU GET IT, T-TORIS? I B-BLAME MYSELF EVERY T-TIME YOU G-GET HURT! ST-STOP TRYING TO PR-PROTECT ME!"

As the timer reached zero and his thumb jabbed for the blue button, Estonia knocked his small hand out of the way and pressed red.

Fitting violently, Lithuania's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he fainted.

"You Baltics sure know how to do the dramatic," Prussia quipped weakly in the silent moment.  
Nobody bothered responding.

_It's so warm: warmer than it ever gets at home, and the whiskey leaves such a drowsy feeling in his stomach. His eyelids get heavy to the tune of Alfred's blues song. He knows he should try and stay in this good moment for longer, but… he can't… keep… awake…_

_His senses are overloaded – the crops and the air in his nose and the bitter moonshine on his tongue; the sky so intensely blue; the straw tickling his ears; Alfred's surprisingly deep voice…_

_Sleeping…_

A part of him knew he was only remembering, living in the recollection. And he knew he had to get back, to see the damage.

_But still…  
It would be nice to stay here always._

Lithuania forced his eyes open to Romania checking his pulse, those fanged teeth far too close to his neck.  
"He's alive. He will be fine. Oh, everybody! He's waking up!"

There was a universal sigh of relief as Belarus (Ukraine had dashed into the corridor and they could hear her bawl) disconnected him from the machine, far more gently than you'd expect from her. Latvia, meanwhile, was shrieking at Estonia.

"HOW _COULD_ YOU, EDDY?! HOW COULD YOU D-D-DO THAT! I KNOW YOU MADE YOUR CHOICE TO HELP YOURSELF, B-BUT WE'RE NOT ALL H-HEARTLESS!"

Russia was beginning to get agitated at the commotion – the better mood-readers could feel it by the shift of atmosphere. Latvia, as ever, was oblivious; and Estonia was too caught up with him to care.

"HEARTLESS? I DID WHAT _LEEDU_ WANTED ME TO! WE WERE LOOKING AFTER YOU!"

"W-WELL I'M DONE WITH BEING LOOKED AFTER! I AM A NATION, EDDY: I AM FIFTEEN YEARS OLD!"

"EXACTLY!"

"_EXACTLY!"_

"**Be. Quiet.**"

"_Pask_!"

The warring nations turned to face him. They hadn't seen him this angry in a long time, and Latvia felt his rage shrivel up and die within him.  
_Why? W-why was I so horrible to Eddy and Toris? It's Mr R-R-Russia's fault for all of th-this! Why can't I sh-shout at him?  
I'm just a stupid coward._

"You – you won't stop shouting, and Estonia messed up the game. It's Latvia's choice – you messed up the game!" Russia's voice was petulant, but that didn't make it any less sinister - in fact, it made it more so. "You two are bad children. You two are very, very bad."

"Mr R-Russia, leave them alone…" Lithuania tried to prop himself up, but slipped back down again, suddenly realising his head was in Belarus's lap. Normally, this would have embarrassed him enough to make him faint again, but his bones ached so much and she was… was she smoothing his hair?

"You're so naughty… why can't you ever be playing nice? You were not following the rules, Eduard, so… it's the forfeit, da?"

**Don't ask me why my flashbacks are in present tense. But I kind of like the style! I'm sorry if they're a bit excessive, but I do like flashbacks!  
Prussia's comic relief is probably unnecessary. But fun.  
Latvia has gone… kind of berserk. He's writing himself: don't blame me!  
Only Russia speaks in bold… AND ME!  
AND WHAT IS THIS DAMN LIETBEL INTRUSION! BELARUS, I'M GOING TO KILL YOU WITH YOUR OWN KNIVES! AND SHADOWSINTHELIGHTOFDAY: YOUR INFLUENCE IS COMPLETELY TO BLAME FOR THOSE TWO SENTENCES!**

**~Pask – Estonian, shit**

**I am now going to try and factorise quadratics. Wish me luck.  
Review if you liked it or to tell me if I'm going wrong, and follow/fav for more. And if you're far in the future or in an alternative universe, you guys review too! :D**

**It's EUROVISION NEXT WEEK! So something may get written for that, but it depends on how much time I have... (so it's unlikely)**

**See ya when I see ya!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Rather You Than Me – Part 5**

**SORRY FOR THE DELAY! I AM AN ASSHAT!**

**Triple thanks to everyone who tried to draw Lithuania in a cowboy hat. You're epic, and my AmeLiet shipping flame is well and truly alight!  
By the way, if anyone wants to explain quadratics to me in a PM, all this time later I still don't understand them... (Maths. Ugh. *begs the maths nerds*)**

A reeking puddle of milk still lay on the kitchen tiles, many metres above their heads. Lithuania saw the carton burst lucidly in his memory and somehow surmising that if he had stopped it falling, he could have stopped everything – stopped the torture before it had even started. Or if he hadn't had his own time, if he had only been there to take the brunt of Russia's current madness before it had developed into a twisted plan…  
Slowly, in his head, he saw the carton fall over and over, splashing over his shoes, spreading like his helplessness over the white and black…

It was wrong, of course. But having a single event and therefore only himself to blame helped him understand how he had come to be lying here. He wished that his head hurt less; that he could move without a resounding shot of pain leaching down his spine.

Someone was still stroking his silky hair.

And yes, he was still a strong, proud soldier; a strong, proud nation.

But this was okay.

"Feliks…" he whispered, and let himself sleep. "Feliks. I'm home."

_No, you're not, Litva, _Belarus thought as she looked down at him, knowing that soon she would have to stop, soon she would have to resume her role in this game – as much a player as anyone else. _You're never going home. That's the point.  
As your jailer, I should know._

* * *

Eduard Von Bock had spent a lot of his long life as Estonia feeling frightened. It had made him selfish; vengeful, even - and it had also left him quite alone.

He would probably count seven or eight nations as allies: his fellow Baltics, tiny Moldova who liked to read with him rather than Toris for some strange reason (Toris did all the voices for storybooks, whereas he read everything flatly and dully), and the Nordics. Well, some of them at least. But that was all he had. Not a true friend among them; just people who would protect him against a threat to his nation or people he would try to protect to very little avail.  
Very little avail indeed.

If he had to name his best friend, he would probably say Finland (although he was sure Finland would say Sweden: he highly doubted that anyone would choose him as their closest friend). They shared a similar language, a similar history, and a long time ago, Eddy had trusted him with something and it had been thrown back in his face but Tino wasn't to blame and he couldn't hold a grudge but still it _ached_...

And at some point, somewhere down the line, he decided to put himself first and shut the world away.

Solitude had always treated Eddy kindly, his wonderfully peaceful home like a hot bath at the end of a horrible day. He got stuff done and nobody bothered him unless he really had to be bothered. And he fell out of touch with pretty much everybody, just like Japan and England and many others had before him. Living almost a human life; walking the beaches of his home, reading until the small hours, lying and simply thinking in the beautiful emptiness – a _good_ emptiness, full of a fire's crackling warmth and centuries of stories for him to recall.

Two decades of bliss.  
Then the Second World War had blown his freedom apart.

Lithuania had tried to help him, and for those feeble attempts he owed a lot to the brunet nation, but living with Russia had only intensified his standoffish feelings, had only intensified his desire to stay out of the way and hide, hide, hide.

_Don't get attached to people, and then you won't betray them.  
Nobody get close to me; you will only get hurt._

Perhaps this was why he had been so cowardly thus far, and failed so spectacularly and helping anyone, or even being a decent human being.

Self-hatred is a powerful emotion, and it filled him up completely.

He was flanked by both Juan and Ivan - they didn't need to pull him out of the room; he was coming quietly in order to avoid their touches at all costs.  
He didn't think he could bear hands gripping his shoulders after everything that had gone on.

They were walking in the opposite direction to going back to the house - Estonia looked around to see the darkened, blood-soaked carpet from the shooting of earlier, and winced, only to be prodded into facing the right way.

_Left turn, right turn, ten paces, and right turn, down three steps... No. I'll never remember: it's a maze down here! And so deep...  
For all the timers and all the dilemmas, I don't think I would know how long we've been here. How long since Georgia was shot. It could be mere minutes and hours; it could be days...  
I suppose that's all part of it. Breaking us down, mentally...  
_Jumal küll_, I want to go home._

* * *

"…still a threat?"

"It's a risk we will have to take. I think she isn't. She is not so brave…"

"And Belarus?"

"Doesn't care anymore…"  
Romania and Prussia finished up a quiet, hurried conversation, and Prussia leant forward to tap Raivis' arm. The boy, who given up crying to simply stare dejectedly at the table, looked up with a start.  
"Listen, kid. This is our chance to get the hell out of here, okay? Ivan's gone; Juan's gone... This is our chance for an awesome escape!" His grin was very forced. "Let's go!"

"B-but Toris... and Eddy; they've t-taken him s-somewhere... I'm s-scared."  
He glanced over to where Estonia had been marched out of the door, to where Lithuania was obliviously slumped on Belarus. "Th-they're doing this for me. I can't just _l-leave_ them..."

"_Lettland_!" Prussia had an urge to sling him over his shoulder, but then realised how threatening and humiliating that action would seem to the young nation, and shrugged at Romania as if to say: _he likes you. You get him to come._ But Romania shook his head.  
The two red eyed nations gazed at each other hopelessly.

"It's not going to work, Gilbert. The Baltics don't think they are, but they are INSANELY loyal. RIDICULOUSLY loyal. They will not leave each other…"

"We're..." Raivis started, but then blinked. He supposed that they were loyal to each other. They stuck together as much as possible, and he knew that even when he fell out with Eddy (you just didn't 'fall out' with Toris in the same way) the bespectacled boy would come and help him, or try at least to stand up for him...  
_Ak dieves, and I _screamed _at him. And now he's facing something horrible… If only I hadn't made such a fuss..._  
"You're r-right." He says suddenly to Romania and Prussia, getting up from his chair. "We are l-loyal. I am LOYAL. I am a loyal little p-p-puppy - at least I have that g-going for me..."

"_Lettland_..."

"Raivis, don't you dare!"

"I'm g-going to find Ed, and t-take his pl-place. I mean, I'm the one that w-wants to be treated as an ad-adult, r-right?"

"No, you're not!" Romania reached for him, but he moved back and started over the room. Belarus glanced up when he approached, eyes old with misery.

"Look after him," was all he could think to say, indicating Toris who was twitching in some dream. The woman nodded, but weakly tried to stop him going.

"You can't leave. That's what the plan is, Raivis. That's what he wants. Why do you think he left the door open? To… to split you off from the others…"

Latvia shrugged, as if it didn't matter, as if it didn't make any difference, and in that movement Romania saw Moldova and could no longer stand it.  
"It's not what Toris wants. He doesn't want you hurt."

Latvia flinched at the low blow, but retorted: "He didn't want Eddy h-hurt either."  
As he left through the wide open door and stumbled down the gloomy corridor, Romania came running out - Prussia in hot pursuit, supposing this was their chance at making a break for it after all.  
Then, the shooting started.

* * *

Estonia heard the gunshots, and looked up with a start.  
"Toris... Gilbert… Vlad… Raivis! No... No, no... You can't!"

"Are you trying to tell me what I can and can't do, Eduard?"

Eddy shook his head quickly, hating himself and his cowardice more than he would ever previously have thought possible. More than any of the others must hate him.  
He was shoved into an even colder room than before; extremely small and extremely dark, with not a crack of light when the two other nations swung the door shut with a resounding slam.

Cuba still hadn't said a word, nor looked at anyone.

"Your shouting… it hurts in my head. You can stay here until you learn the rules."  
Russia sounded… almost confused. Like he didn't really understand why they had all got so upset, and wished they could just simply _enjoy the game_.

And with the twist of a bolt, they appeared to walk away. Just like that.

He instantly felt horrifyingly alone.

_Now, I get my solitude.  
Now, when I no longer want it._

He could just about see his breath condense in the claustrophobic air, and he curled up, concentrating on conserving body heat.  
Not thinking of who might be on the wrong end of the gun. Not thinking. Not thinking. Not thinking. Not thinking. Not-  
_I should have just let Raivis take it_, he ruminated, and tears rolled down his cheeks and froze sticky on his face._ At least then there'd be someone left to protect him…_

_I should have taken my own shock.  
But I'm not as brave as my baby brother._

_I will never be as good at Lithuania and Latvia, however hard I try…_

* * *

Prussia felt his stomach implode, agonising, and screamed at the top of his lungs, dropping to his hands and knees to reveal the holes in his back. Romania and Latvia stopped, the former rushing back and (with a gulp) prising the bullets out as Gilbert hissed through his teeth the words: "_Deutschland… Westen Deutschland…_"  
He fell forward heavily, a large quantity of blood being lost by the second.  
Latvia held his hand, tightly, and Romania checked Prussia's pulse and shook his head.

"Not dead yet. Give him ten minutes," Wiping his gory hand on the pocket of his slacks, Vladimir. started to shake again, but it wasn't a panic attack: he was done with panic attacks today.

This time, it was fury.  
"UKRAINE! GET OUT OF WHERE YOU'RE HIDING! COME AND FACE US!"

Obediently, the white-blonde girl threw her gun at Vlad's feet as she slunk from her hidden corner, not looking anywhere near his swirling, angry eyes.  
_Magic_, Latvia realised with a gasp, dropping the now-limp hand of the Prussian and shutting his lids with a thumb – he had never liked Gilbert staring at him, and he did not like it any more now, looking like he did on countless battlefields. And he remembered something Estonia had muttered once, that he had not understood then but understood now:

"_This house… this union… it's the modern-day battlefield."_

"I - I just did what I was told! I didn't..."

"Oh Ukraine, that's all you've ever done, isn't it. Do what you were told. By Russia, by your boss, by Belarus... Don't you have a brain? Can't you think for yourself?!" Romania raised a hand, an invisible force crushed her to her knees, and she cut in his speech with whimpers and sobbed half-explanations which he ignored entirely. "You know, I always thought you were a good person, even though you were just a puppet on a string! Well, now it's MY turn to make you dance!"

"V-Vladimir, leave her alone!" Latvia shook his suddenly steely arm, shocked at the young man's change from anxious and friendly to terrifying and… mean. "It's not fair; y-you can't just a-argue with Mr. Russia..."

"SHE COULD HAVE!" Romania roared, and with a gesture of his elegant fingers flung her against the stony wall. Oh, how good it was to be free, to have his power free, to be free and so so STRONG...  
"Gilbert was my ally! SHE'S THE ONLY ONE THAT COULD HAVE!"  
There was a horrible crunch of bones breaking that Latvia wished he had not heard before - or since - but his wish was not granted. Romania did it again, flick and slam and crunch. Again; flick, slam, crunch. The worst thing was that Ukraine didn't bother to beg or scream - she just kept sobbing...

"L-LEAVE HER ALONE!" Latvia pummelled him from behind, but it didn't seem to do any good. "YOU'RE JUST AS BAD AS MR. R-R-RUSSIA!"

He couldn't believe how somebody he had pitied slightly not so long earlier; somebody he had always liked and thought he had known; somebody as usually darkly cheerful could turn into… this.  
This…  
_Monster._

_It's always the eyes,_ he grasped in a moment, watching the flick, slam, crunch. _Why am I surprised? Mr. Russia too. Their eyes are like windows; you can see the madness inside them through the eyes, and...  
_Then, he was struck with a radical idea - anything to make the noise stop, to make the girl's pain stop... although she had done wrong things… he couldn't stand this!  
"B-Brother?" He imitated, soft and sad and like a seven-year-old. "Brother, is that you?"

"Moldova! C-Constantin?" Romania, in his emotion fooled by the guise, spun round, arms outstretched to embrace the little boy.  
He saw a little boy, but not the one he was looking for.

"I'm sorry!" Latvia said.  
He had picked up the heavy pistol with both chubby, dimpled, childish hands, and as Romania made a gesture - either one of surrender or one designed to throw him too - he clenched his eyes shut, poised himself on his tiptoes and swung it as hard as he could.  
CRACK.  
"I'm sorry... There w-weren't any bu-bullets left, so I h-h-had to... I didn't mean to..."

Lying on the floor, Vladimir was breathing heavily, but he had a large dent on his temple, and it didn't look good. He could apologise all he wanted, but the damage was done.  
He was a killer, or as good as.

_Well, you said it, Mr Romania.  
I'm only loyal to the other Baltics…_

_Or… am I only loyal to myself?_

* * *

From his position in the darkness, hugging his knees, Estonia was still thinking the same thing.

There was no question in his mind, however – his selfishness was no new idea: he had known it of himself and where his loyalties truly lay for a long, long time.

And as he reflected, he realised what may have triggered this game of 'Would You Rather'...  
And what might be the outcome.

* * *

**Um... TERRIBLE ENDING IS TERRIBLE.**

**Feeling a bit bad again. Sorry this took me so long, and for Romania flipping the hell out and going OOC... it's been a real pain to write! But I'm done, at long last! (I hate this chapter.)  
You know, it's a good thing Estonia knows how this is going to end, because I do not!  
And it seems that, as I've sent Eddy off, Latvia now has to make the introspective angsty mental comments. Is anyone still IC? And also, can we tell my EstFin headcanon to politely leave? THIS IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE ESTFIN!  
(I realised this morning that this whole chapter is a song called 'Not Good Enough For Truth In Cliché' by Escape The Fate… Yeah, that's worth listening to!)**

**Thank you for all your support so far if you're reading this, and I apologise for this chapter - and thanks for following and favouriting (I cannot find your usernames in my inbox) :D It really means… you have maybe a small idea of how much it means. A fraction… I just can't see why you'd read it, honestly!**

**Next chapter… PREPARE FOR MUCH FLASHBACKS! AND IT BEING WAY BETTER! AND CUBA-NESS!  
See ya, chaps!  
*B, ignoring the sun, slams door on her dark, isolated writing cell until next week***


End file.
